


gospel truth

by Vault_of_Glass



Series: Kinktober 2018 [9]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Lingerie, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Smut with heart, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 00:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16252901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_of_Glass/pseuds/Vault_of_Glass
Summary: Day 9: Bondage, Lingerie, Praise Kink





	gospel truth

Watching River undress might be his favorite part of every day.

When she hangs her coat and steps out of her boots and sheds a little of the pressure from her shoulders. She works the tie loose from her hair, unleashing waves of white that tumble down around her shoulders. Unbuttons her blouse, unhurried, attentive. The sleeves descend her arms like falling leaves and flutter to the floor, baring that pale skin he’s learned and loved so many times.

River catches his eyes on her. Her mouth curls up into his favorite shape, fond and teasing. A woman who lives to be watched, to be wanted, and he willingly devotes himself to her worship. She slowly leads the denim down over her hips, knowing his eyes will follow.

The sight of pink lace grinds his thoughts to a halt. He drinks in the blush-colored lingerie that clings so lovingly to River’s body, every flower stitched into the luminous material, dipping open to the small of her back and hugging comfortably around her hips. The dim glow of candlelight dances bright across the finely-woven threads, as if they’re spun from gold itself.

He’ll never know why anyone else ever bothered wearing pink when the color was so clearly meant for River.

“I -” he starts, and stops, and tries again. His face feels ten degrees too warm. “That’s - you… were wearing that all day?”

River stands before her mirror and teases fingers through the mass of her hair, gently freeing tangles from the silky strands. Through its reflection, MacCready can make out the pillar of bare skin that stretches to her navel, bordered by petals of delicate lace. She meets his gaze over her shoulder and offers him a dreamy, tempting smile. “I’ll be the General, if I have to,” she tells him warmly. “But I’m still gonna be me when I do it.”

Bless her for it.

“Would you do something for me, RJ?”

“Anything.”

She laughs, like honeyed sunshine. When she turns, she offers him the length of crimson silk that normally restrains her hair. His heart jumps in his chest as she folds her wrists together and presents them to him, waiting, patient,  _perfect_.

MacCready rolls the silk between his fingers. Just the satin feel of it reminds him of nights past, of River straining beautifully against red silk, the gospel noises he can make her sing. He leads the silk around her wrists and knots it tight against her skin, dropping kisses to the tender valley of each palm. She traces her fingertips along the shape of his beard until he leans down to capture her mouth, drawing her closer with a hand at the small of her back, and he feels a thrill of expectation when his fingers graze bare skin. The tension in her body melts against him.

Every evening he eases her troubles by touch, like penitence, like prayer; maintains his faith with zealous dedication; watches her unfurl across the sheets and knows that heaven lies before him.

“I’ve been waiting all day for you,” she says.

MacCready flexes the impatient twitches from his fingers. Was she thinking of him when she dressed this morning? Slipping into silk and lace and waiting for him to unwrap her like a gift.

“Been waiting all my life for you, angel,” he shoots back easily, smirking.

Her laughter grows wings and soars off with his heart. “You’re gonna spoil a girl, talking like that.”

“Good.” He sets his fingertips against her thigh in a barely-there touch. “‘Cause I wasn’t done.” His thumb rolls lazy shapes into her skin as he commits the sight of her to memory, sprawled open and serene. “You are the most beautiful thing in the whole damn world.”

“RJ…” River bites her lip - almost  _bashful_ , glowing from the praise, and he wants to see more.

“Every time I see you like this, it feels like the first time,” he breathes, finally chancing his hands against the delicate lace that hides her hips from him - too soft, too pretty, like her. Some things were meant for gentler men, but she presses back into his touch with a breath of relief. “When I couldn’t believe you were real, and I thought I was dreaming.”

Her eyes grow softer at the reverence in his voice. She watches him crawl closer with a smile to rival the sun for its warmth. He christens every inch of barren skin with languid kisses and ends at her mouth, tasting the sigh on her tongue. Her legs hook eagerly behind his hips, refusing any space between them.

When MacCready teases teeth along her jaw, she tilts her head and bares her throat to him. He leaves his mark in dark red blossoms down her neck. Each one draws a blissful murmur from her lips, his name in hymnal verses, soft as breath. “Sounds so good when you say it,” he groans. His mouth maps the valley between her breasts, fingers sliding rosy lace aside to find the peaks of her nipples. They stiffen quickly to his touch as if in recognition, skin recalling skin.

Bound wrists sink down around his neck. River weaves her hands into his hair, watching him through lidded eyes as he reaches her stomach and places a slow, thorough kiss there. His hand finds the lace between her thighs, and dampness wets his thumb when he traces her through her lingerie. “Oh,  _Riv_ ,” he sighs, feeling her shudder to his touch. “You’re killin’ me.”

She bleeds out a laugh that shakes in her throat. “I’m killing  _you_?”

MacCready teases pink lace to the side and sucks his teeth at the dewy warmth beneath his fingers. His breath and the graze of his touch make her gasp. “I’m starving every second I don’t have my mouth on you, beautiful.” He sucks her folds between his lips and drives his tongue up in one long stroke. His cock twitches at just the taste of her, craving that flavor at the source, velvet and snug around him. He works his tongue in nimble rhythms over the hood of her clit.

“Oh-!” River lifts her hips above the sheets, forced into a clumsy bow. The tones of her voice guide his tribute, conduct him in that common tongue of hallowed invocations, and he chases every tremble in her body to the point of absolution.

It never takes long. He knows her by teeth, tongue, and touch, by the tension that rolls through her muscles. She drags him in by the grip in his hair and gasps when he presses back, locking his hands around her hips. The angle opens her more fully to his mouth as if in offering and affirmation all at once. Her thighs over his shoulders start to shake. He kneads his fingers tenderly along her hips as she seizes up and finds release.

Her features all soften in climax, mouth stretched into a wild cry. She writhes against his hold and pleads his name in the fall back down, glowing with a delicate shimmer of sweat. His mouth continues relentless attention until she gasps a curse and wriggles desperately away, shuddering with overstimulation.

MacCready sweeps a hand over his mouth and inspects his work with a thrill of satisfaction. The soft and swollen folds between her thighs glisten with slick arousal. “You sound like heaven when you come,” he tells her breathlessly. He’s thinking of eating her again and again, until his mouth is numb and River’s begging him for mercy, but she whines his name and urges him closer with trembling thighs.

“Please,  _cariño_.”

“Mmn, tell me.” He gathers her hair in his hand and drags his lips down the line of her jaw. “What do you need?”

“RJ.” River brings her bound wrists down to cradle his face in her hands, meeting his gaze with glassy dark eyes. “Take me.”

MacCready groans, drawing their lips together as he leads himself between her thighs, and the whole world seems to stop at that perfect fucking fit, like she was made to take him, broken fragments finding refuge. River arcs into a curve and scrabbles at his shoulders, expelling a breathy moan. He moves slowly at first, forcing himself into an easy, languid pace even as the impulse to ravage her rises. Her sighs are soft and dreamy at his ear, curling like clouds around the shape of his name.

“So good,” he rumbles against her skin. “So good, you’re so good, feel so perfect.” He hears her breath hitch at the praise, her hands clumsy and shaking against their restraints. Pink lace bunches beneath his grip, threatening to split, but it’s so difficult to treat it gently when it keeps him from her perfect skin.

“Love you-!” River sobs, shaking her head amongst a puddle of white hair that pools against the pillow. Roses of glowing rouge stain her cheeks as she pants frantically for breath. “Love you, love you,  _baby_ , please -”

MacCready tilts their heads together, cupping the side of her face as his hips shove flush against hers. “Love you,” he sighs, like divine word, sure as scripture. “ _God_ , I love you.” Their legs tangle together, and he drinks the sounds of rapture from her lips when she comes again around him. He tastes her breath and her pleasure and the lingering warmth of her arousal on his tongue, and feels everything else fade away to the devastating pull of climax. Tight, hot pressure twists down into absolution, and he free falls.

Looping her hands around his neck, River draws him close, against her heart. He listens to the frenzied, steady beat as it slowly calms and the sweat starts to cool on their skin. She hums a few bars of some pre-war love song, airy and carefree, her troubles lifted by his touch.

At least, until tomorrow’s worship.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Vectober](http://vectober.tumblr.com/) for today's [inspiration](http://vectober.tumblr.com/post/178705121861/pinup-ych-for-vaultie-glass-c). (mild nsfw)


End file.
